With the aid of half-a-
crown I managed to placate him. Putting my inquiry in another form,
I asked if he had any moles. A regrettable misunderstanding, which
led to a fruitless journey to another part of the village, was
eventually cleared up, and on my return I satisfied myself that
this man was in no way related to your niece.
BELINDA (admiringly). How splendid of you! Well, now, we know
_he's_ not. (She holds up one finger.)
BAXTER. Yes. In the afternoon I located another Mr. Robinson
following the profession of a carrier. My first inquiries led to a
similar result, with the exception that in this case Mr. Robinson
carried his threatening attitude so far as to take off his coat and
roll up his sleeves. Perceiving at once that he was not the man, I
withdrew.
BELINDA. How brave you are! That makes two. (She holds up another
finger). It still leaves a good many. (Pleadingly.) Just call me
Belinda again.
BAXTER (nervously). You mustn't tempt me, Mrs. Tremayne.
BELINDA (penitently). I won't!
BAXTER. To resume, then, my narrative. This morning I have heard of
a third Mr. Robinson. Whether there is actually any particular
fortune attached to the number three I cannot say for certain. It
is doubtful whether statistics would be found to support the
popular belief. But one likes to flatter oneself that in one's own
case it may be true; and so--
BELINDA.
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